《The Foulest Deeds》 Chapter One: Gacha Reward

Chapter One: Gacha Reward

John''s hands were covered in blood, so too was the entirety of his body and the hallway around him. The blaring red lights, which fluctuated in intensity, turned the hallway into a cruel mimicry of a blood vessel. The alarms of the ship echoed through the empty corridors, their sound mingling with the grotesque stillness of the scene. Dead bodies lay sprawled across the floor, silent witnesses to the carnage, but amidst it all, there stood one lone figure-John. His focus was entirely on the spinning wheel before him. His eyes were fixed on the panel of light, the small mystical display spinning, spinning, as if it held the key to something more important than the nightmare unfolding around him. The blood pooling at his feet was an afterthought, something outside his world of focus, a silent testament to the chaos he had coursed. His gaze never wavered from the wheel, as if any moment could hold the promise of salvation -or doom. Still, he could feel the blood on his skin. It slithered down from his forearm, clung to his wrist, trickled over his palm, and pooled at the tip of his fingers, waiting. The weight of it was suffocating, a visceral reminder of what had transpired. But John didn''t allow himself to look down. He couldn''t. Not yet. Then, just as the wheel slowed to a crawl, a single drop of blood fell from his fingertip. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, his breath steady but his heart racing. In that brief, suspended moment, the hum of the system seemed to resonate through his body, as if to confirm his fate. The air around him pulsed with static, his body tingling with anticipation. Buzz. The sound shot through him like an electric shock. His eyes snapped open. The wheel had stopped. He didn''t dare glance at the prize it had chosen for him. The blood on his skin seemed to thicken, to dry and stain him further, but it was nothing compared to the weight of what was to come. He could not hide from the result. Seedling! Congratulations Although unlucky you may seem, your luck has proven itself. You have won the top prize of the draw Reward: Ultimate Integration (Rank: Diamond +) Do you wish to use it? Yes/No John Stared at the reward, his eyes tearing up, his heart a steam engine, his mind a wave of raging emotions, What have I done? ¡°Why?¡± He asked, his voice a whisper, but he knew the reason, his focus stripped away, then, his eyes finally wandered the hallway, and he saw, saw what his greed for more success and life had caused. Acquaintances littered the hallway like broken puppets. Among them, he spotted the body of Phoenix-the Korean idol he had flirted with just hours earlier. She had been a prominent member of the expedition to the new city on Mars. His gaze searched for her face, but there was nothing left-only brain matter, splintered bone, and a pool of crimson blood. John gagged, his heart clenched, and he collapsed to his knees, weak and trembling. The ship seemed to spin around him as he shut his eyes. In the suffocating darkness, the bitter taste of vomit lingered on his tongue, and the pungent smell of iron hung thick in the air. I... I only killed one person, he tried to reason with himself. But the blood clinging to his skin felt like an accusation. He could still hear the echoes of the massacre-the others tearing each other apart. And yet, he had walked away with only one death on his hands, while the rest had annihilated each other. Yes/No The question began blinking as if prodding John to pick an answer. He didn''t. John felt his heart beating furiously as he looked between the two options. He had expected a way back to earth, but now he was faced with an option he had no idea what it meant, he was confused, a feeling that got his fist clenching and teeth gritting, but now he just felt small, out of his depth. At the end John knew his answer, why, he had wondered, and he knew, John was a rising star in the technological world back on earth, he had created a company for power armors and other mecha tech and he still wanted more, John didn''t want it to end, the success, he still had more growth in front of him, he didn''t know what ultimate integration meant but he would take it over death, John in the end was human and not just any, he was scum, even if it had been a decision made out of fear he knew deep within himself that he would do it again, i¡­ I''m sorry, but it''s every man for himself. He thought as he confirmed Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Yes. Ultimate Integration has been activated Be warned seedling: The process of ultimate integration is many and Random. Be prepared! Standby¡­ Standby¡­ Suitable integration Found¡­ Process initialising 1, 2, 3 The numbers twisted as a brutal vertigo wracked John''s body and mind and then he was falling, his body hit the metal ground with a echoing clung and the hallway was still, his unmoving body seemed to fit into the bloody picture of the hallway as his chest rising and falling, slowly stopped and life no longer existed in the hallway. John¡¯s world was a churn of darkness and bubbling emotions, a thick, unyielding wave pressing down on him. He felt the urge to weep, to sink to his knees - if he could feel them - and beg forgiveness. But in the end, he was a man of logic. I don¡¯t know what this is, but I¡¯m not dead. At least I¡¯m still alive, he thought, steadying himself. But the ache remained, a hollow drumbeat in his chest, as the image of her face - the idol he¡¯d met hours earlier - burned in his mind. She had been captivating: crimson and black-dyed hair framing her delicate face, full pink lips drawing him in, mirth-filled eyes that seemed to see right through him. Then, like a battering ram, the memory of her broken face slammed forward, and he recoiled, trying to bury it. But he stopped himself. This time, he didn¡¯t look away. He faced the memories head-on, like a judge delivering his own verdict. The System message had been clear, its words both ominous and cold: survive this ¡°trial¡± and gain entry to the Integration Zone. The details had been more disturbing than the message itself, though-the Integration Zone was Earth. The choice that followed had been merciless. Death for all but one-or death for everyone. For John, it wasn¡¯t fear that spurred him into action. It was something colder, sharper: simple logic. Everyone else had dismissed it as a prank, unsettled but willing to let the timer run out. John couldn¡¯t afford that risk. If this was a joke, it would end when I tried to kill. But the System hadn¡¯t stopped, as if it were waiting for someone to make the first move. In that suspended moment, he sensed something from it-something beyond technology, a presence, a will. He realised the others felt it, too. They had all moved then. He could still see the man¡¯s face, the one he¡¯d strangled. He barely knew him, a face blurred by casual indifference, yet now it was etched into his mind like a stone carving. This better be worth it, he¡¯d told himself, hands trembling as he¡¯d let the lifeless body drop. Now, in the shadowed silence, John found his emotions-a chaotic river-beginning to cool. The horror receded as his calculating side took hold, anchoring him. He asked himself a single, relentless question: Was it worth it? He didn¡¯t know. Not yet. In the darkness, both literal and figurative, he came to a realisation. I don¡¯t think I¡¯m normal. John didn¡¯t know how long he had lingered in the darkness. It was timeless, weightless, until the silence fractured, and he felt the faint call to awaken, like the gentle end of a long dream. Awareness trickled in, and his head began to ache, a dull throb that pulsed through him as he felt a connection forming between mind and body. The first part to respond was his fingers. Stiff, unyielding, like they¡¯d been frozen in place. With slow, stilted jerks, he tested their movement-fingers, then toes, his lips twitching in a sluggish response. It felt like shedding layers of rust, his joints grinding to life, gradually yielding to his control. Finally, his eyelids, heavy and sealed tight, began to flutter. Before they opened, another sense awoke. The scent of something faintly sweet reached him, teasingly familiar and oddly addictive, threading through the haze in his mind. And then, touch-a hand, clasped tightly around his own. The warmth was a shock, soft and tender against his skin, with a hint of hesitance in the way it held him. Finally, his eyes flickered open in slow steps, pulling him fully into the waking world. Then for what felt like an eternity John heard the voice of another human and it was a word he had never heard directed at him ever. "Son." The word was hesitant, like her touch, her voice calm, rich, and slightly husky, yet trembling at the edges, unravelling with emotions too raw to hide. John felt it-every quiver, every break in that voice so close to falling apart. He was lost in its depth, until he felt the warmth of a tear land softly on his cheek. John was lost in the emotions of the beautiful woman that had called him; her son. He was caught off guard by the notification that appeared in front of him then. Congratulations Seedling! First Step of integration complete Second step of integration complete Third step in process¡­ ¡­ Brace yourself seedling Chapter Two: Hail Thy Hand of Death

Chapter Two: Hail thy hand of death

The first few days had been a blur. John¡¯s body had not been his own¨Ctwisting with pain one moment, numb and detached the next. Every nerve felt alive with the aftershock of what the System had done. The transformation had consumed him in ways he wasn¡¯t prepared for. But as the days bled together, a semblance of normalcy began to creep back into his mind. The moment Phoenix¡¯s and the man he had strangled faces disappeared into the depths of his memories, he realised that nothing would ever be the same again. Now, ten days later, he was beginning to understand just how much that single choice had altered the course of his life. The questions still burned¨CWho was he now? What had he become? And more hauntingly¨CWas it worth what he had sacrificed? The third step has been completed! Full body integration¡­ Completed Soul integration¡­ Completed Mind integration¡­ Completed Branches merging¡­ Completed Traits merging¡­ Completed Status now available Command: Status Welcome seedling to the Multiverse! John suspected he''d be getting his answers to his questions soon enough. He scanned the notification before his eyes. What does all of this mean? he wondered. I really need a type of Internet, but¡­ His thoughts trailed off as he looked at the woman sitting beside him. Apart from the ever-present pains of what the System had been doing to him, there was one other constant: the woman who had called him ¡°Son.¡± She sat in an antique armchair, upholstered in dark green, with faint sunlight filtering through the window behind them, adding to the ambient glow of the chandeliers. Before them was a large, intricately carved desk, dominating the room with its presence. The desk¡¯s surface was carefully arranged with ink pots of various colours, a feather quill, and neatly stacked papers. The room smelled of old parchment mixed with her signature scent¨Ca faintly sweet, floral fragrance that had become nearly addictive to him. Feeling his gaze, she turned to look at him, her bearing regal¨Clike a queen, or was she one? Her hair was long and dark, impeccably styled in a different way each time he saw her, but always neat. It framed her face, which was beautiful but sharp: eyes an intense green, nose small and perfectly shaped, lips a dull pink. Her entire appearance was enhanced by her luxurious emerald gown, embroidered with intricate golden patterns, an air of power as commanding as the room itself. "Do you want me to carry you?" she asked, looking at him expectantly. He didn''t answer, and he could see her eyes dim a little at his silence, her smile turning faintly sad. "Well, don''t worry, Chronifer," she murmured, almost as if reassuring herself. "I¡¯ll be done soon, and I¡¯ll be giving you your lessons soon." The way she spoke to him, so softly, as if he might break¨Cor as if she might break¨Cfelt surreal. The idea of softness didn¡¯t seem to fit her; it felt as out of place as John in a child''s body. But as he looked at her, John realised something that startled him. Since when did I stop minding being called Chronifer? He nodded absentmindedly in response to the woman he now knew was his mother. "You nodded at me, didn¡¯t you!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with a mixture of joy and disbelief. She grabbed his small shoulders, searching his eyes, a faint but fierce hope sparking in hers. John felt a pang of guilt for not truly responding to her. But he¡¯d managed to piece together a few key details about his situation. He¡¯d come to suspect that the child he now inhabited¨CChronifer¨Chad been born with something missing, an emptiness that left him incomplete in some fundamental way. She had tended to him, despite it all, had raised him carefully even through that emptiness. And now, despite the urge to let her see more of him, he reminded himself that he had to be cautious. He had a plan: small, gradual steps of growth to avoid suspicion, a slow emergence that wouldn¡¯t expose him as a stranger in a child''s skin. This was just another secret he would try to bury deep, even if it meant forgetting his true name. John. He had paid a heavy price to get here. Until he could weigh the benefits, he wouldn¡¯t risk ruining it.
Later that night, after his mother had tucked him into bed, John came to a startling realization. I didn¡¯t even try to deny her as a stranger. Strangely, it didn¡¯t feel unnatural to him. Deep down, he knew one of his greatest desires had always been a family¨Ca father, a mother, maybe even siblings. But life as an orphan, shuffled between different foster homes, had never allowed that dream to take root. John¡¯s eyes snapped open at the sound of his door creaking open, then softly closing. She must have gone back to her room. He had avoided checking his "status" while his mother was nearby. From experience, he knew people couldn¡¯t see the system¡¯s messages, but it was hard to conceal the telltale gaze¨Cstaring into empty space as if reading something invisible. Status, he thought not knowing if he had to say it out or¡­ Before him a long list of attributes blinked into existence, the language was not English, it seemed like runes or sigils, yet he could understand them. That is strange. Status Name: Chronifer Montcroix-Wythe Race: Human [modified] Traits: [Adaptability], [Resilience], [Endless Tongue], [Mind Bastion], [Formless], [Zenith Physique], [Child of Legacies] Bloodline: N/A Titles: N/A Rank: Seedling Branches [Locked] [Locked] [Locked] [Locked] Leaves: N/A Vines: N/A Auxiliaries: N/A Harbingers: N/A Cruel Thesis Physical Operator If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Strength: 1¡Á Fortitude: 1¡Á Cognition: 1¡Á Lithe: 1¡Á Mutation Actuator Flesh defilement: 0% Temporary: N/A Adjustable: N/A Permanent: N/A That''s a lot of things¡­ I don''t understand! He screamed in his mind. He looked through the list, Human, well that''s nice, but what the hell is modified! Then as if the system had been listening a notification popped up. Race: Human [Modified] Humans are one of the most common races through the multiverse, their adaptability and resilience a weapon of survival, but you are not just any human, your heritage Is long and complex and you are a product of this complexity, a reaction to humanity subverted and Secrets hidden in blood. That was a lot. Of course humanity is a common race, they''re like a living reproduction machine. John joked laughing about his race in glee. Adaptability and survival. Blah, blah, blah, of course my lineage is long, can''t you read, have you seen my new surname? Montcroix-Wythe, He smiled with pride, having only that surname seems worth the ultimate integration, he joked. What does humanity subverted means and what does it mean secrets hidden in my blood? I don''t like the sound of that. Well that''s a lot, I bet I was a normal human in my past life though. He concluded. Let''s see, how did I get my race to show me its description? John wandered, I focused on the modified, ah, yes that''s it. Oh, It''s the words in the brackets. Traits: [Adaptability] A hallmark of human survival, this trait allows one to quickly adjust to new environments, challenges, and circumstances. It empowers growth through adversity and change, enabling individuals to adapt and thrive no matter the circumstance. Humanity adapts! Well that was boring, John thought, he was quite disappointed in the fact that the first trait that reflected humanity he read seemed so boring, no mythical additions. Then he re-read through the trait again and then¡­ Well, scratch that this may be enhanced, well I have to see about that over time. John felt an urge to understand more about this trait but he knew that won¡¯t be happening anytime soon. He clenched his small hands, he estimated he wasn''t older than five. His eyes wandered to the next trait. Traits: [Resilience] A back bone of humanity, the endless capacity to endure and recover from physical, mental, and emotional hardships. This trait enables humans to withstand extreme stress, recover quickly from injuries or trauma, and persist through adversity without breaking. This is what humans are made of. Another basic, well, I guess they could be a bit more enhanced. John thought back to the situations he had gone through so far and concluded, if I have to keep going through such stuff¡­ I''ll definitely need this to be enhanced. Let''s see the next. He thought. Trait: [Endless Tongue] All races in the universe were born from the First Potential, the First Will. Through this shared origin, they possess the ability to speak the first tongue. All minds are connected by a single source. However, other tongues exist¨Cforeign and lesser compared to the Endless Tongue. This trait does not grant you the innate ability to hear those lesser tongues, but it ties you to the boundless, unifying speech of the Endless. Is this¡­ endless tongue what the system is written in? Also what mother speaks? John Was all but sure about that fact, yet the endless tongue wasn''t the topic that drew his gaze. First potential, the first will? What are they? This all sounds like a creation myth? John legs kicked the bed in excitement. I wonder what the other ones are? Maybe relating to the modified underneath my race, or maybe just personal? Traits: [Mind Bastion] Your mind is a bulwark, a bastion and your lineage demands it. The secrets of your blood are unknown¡ªuntested allies or foe, your mind is your fortress and your hope, stand strong. Child of Legacies. John read through the words with horror, and amazement, ¡°allies or foes?¡± ¡°Fortress and your hope?¡± Well I''ll be damned just what kind of family have I been reborn into? Is my blood alive or something? Or is it more mystical like ¡°ancestors¡± and such? Or maybe both. John rolled from his lying position and sat at the edge of his bed. Well this can actually be seen as a good thing, it gives me a defence against whatever secrets my blood holds, that means I have a fighting chance¡­ his mind trailed off, maybe his mother would know something about it, after all this mentions blood. He shuffled the thought around, well, I''ll ask her¡­ when the time is right. Traits: [Formless] Your mind, unlike most, is unfettered within its walls, enabling you the adaptability to be without a form and to be of all forms. Your mind can bear it, and you can be anything, will be everything. Your lineage has prepared for this¡ªbe proud. Hail thy hand of death, Montcroix-Wythe. Beware, for defilement still lingers. Now, this was cool until the end. He sighed, I saw defilement somewhere, oh, yeah, the Cruel Thesis, that doesn''t sound nice, he called up the status again, read through the later parts of the status and his face darkened, only the name, Cruel Thesis makes me scared, then there''s stuff like ¡°physical operator¡±, ¡°Mutation Actuator¡±. John had a bad feeling about all of that, and actually appreciated the formless trait, it actually seemed to offer him an advantage, and, Hail thy hand of death, that was sick and also scary, just what kind of family have i reincarnated into? Trait: [Zenith Physique] ??? Pass the trial of Movat¡¯ha to unlock the full capabilities of this trait. Damn, I was actually looking forward to reading this one. Well, I think it''s self explanatory, maybe a sort of trait that makes me superhuman. I''ll think about it after the next. He rushed on to the next. Trait: [Child of Legacy] ??? Pass the trial of Movat¡¯ha to unlock the full capabilities of this trait. Well, shit! John fell back onto his bed, the disappointment hitting like a punch, what even is the trial of movat¡¯ha? Well I hope mother knows. He smiled, then slapped his face lightly. What the hell, you''re a twenty-seven year old, why are you happy about having a mother? But he had already broken into a grin. Hopeless He still had one more thing to check, though he had little hope it would yield anything exciting. Branches [Locked] *** Not even a single word? Ugh! Chronifer his eyes showing his rightful disappointment. John looked up into the darkness, his thoughts churning as he tried to make sense of everything¨Cthe traits, the name, the family. His mother had murmured cryptically about his father, and he doubted he would¡¯ve had these traits if he were still on Earth. But this wasn¡¯t Earth anymore; that much was clear. He didn¡¯t fully understand what was happening, but he could already see potential advantages. The traits and name mentioned by the system seemed significant, even valuable. The fact that his lineage was described as long hinted at possibilities he hadn¡¯t yet explored. Still, he couldn¡¯t ignore the possible downsides. Secrets hidden in his bloodlines, and his system¡¯s vague remarks about his heritage being both a blessing and a curse only added to his unease. Whatever it meant, he suspected it could turn out to be as much a danger as a gift. Then once again he asked himself the questions that had lingered at the edges of his mind like wraiths. Who am I now? Chronifer Montcroix-Wythe¨Ca son, once an orphan. What have I become? Human, but so much more. Was the sacrifice worth it? He stared into the darkness. The ship¡¯s haunting stillness crept back into his mind: the bitter chill, the iron tang of blood, the lifeless silence. Those memories wrapped around him like a shroud, unyielding. And yet, in the void of those thoughts, the answer formed. Whatever this is, Earth will not find it easy. His fists tightened, trembling under the weight of his resolve. He didn¡¯t know if this was salvation or ruin. But still¡­ Yes. With that though he felt a part of him die. John was gone. He closed his eyes. In his sleep, the world seemed to hold its breath. The moonlight dimmed, fading until it vanished entirely, leaving behind only stillness and shadow. Chapter Three: Mothers Harsh Love

Chapter Three: Mothers harsh love

Chronifer hadn''t anticipated the sudden shift. It struck fast and hard, derailing his carefully planned displays of gradual growth, shattering the illusion that he had any real control over his new life. His mother, Slora, had become an unpredictable variable. For the first ten days after his rebirth, she¡¯d kept a steady, predictable routine with him¨Cgentle conversations, basic alphabet lessons, enough interaction to observe him without revealing too much. But now, her approach had shifted. ¡°Have you finished The Tree Within by Mofius?¡± Slora asked. Her voice was steady, rich, and husky, intimidating in its calmness. There was a weight behind it that demanded attention, though it carried a trace of warmth, as if she was reluctant to reveal too much harshness to her son. As Chronifer entered her study, he reflected on the shift that had followed his first look at his system¨Ca change so immediate and unyielding it left him reeling. Almost overnight, his mother¡¯s demeanour sharpened into something coldly intense, pressing him with quiet demands that bordered on relentless. She tested him with a determination he¡¯d only glimpsed before, eyes hollow yet piercing as she urged him to learn faster, retain more, and speak with a precision he wasn''t supposed to show yet. Though some would call it abusive, Chronifer knew better¨Cthis wasn¡¯t cruelty but a calculated force, driving him to a pace he hadn¡¯t planned for. His own careful control had been lost in her storm of expectation, and he struggled to keep up, feeling as if he were a ship without a sailor in unknown waters, desperately trying to re-establish a foothold on his own life. He nodded to her question, holding up the book briefly before glancing around the room. The study, like much of the mansion, was shrouded in faint shadows, yet it felt different here¨Cthis was his mother¡¯s sanctuary, her domain where she managed her affairs. Chronifer wasn¡¯t entirely sure what those affairs entailed, but one question that had lingered in his mind had already been answered: she was no queen. After all, what kind of queen stayed locked away in an empty mansion? His gaze drifted to the towering shelves of dark wood, stretching from floor to ceiling and lined with countless books. Yet, his attention was fixed on a single empty spot. Stepping forward, he placed the book back in its place with care¨Ca small, deliberate act of completion in this shadowed and sacred space. ¡°Come here, my soul,¡± she said¨Ca term of endearment she¡¯d been using more lately, one of many in rotation. Sun, love, my dear, son... Chronifer suspected she just disliked his name. Chronifer. Though he mused to himself, it does sound cool. He crossed the room toward her, passing the heavy desk and stopping beside her chair. She lifted him effortlessly onto her lap. ¡°Alright then,¡± she said, her voice laced with a hint of a smile, ¡°answer these questions carefully. But if you miss any, you¡¯ll be expected to finish five books in a week.¡± Chronifer turned to her, his expression one of pure horror, eyes widening in silent protest. His mother only laughed, and then, with a smirk, added, ¡°Make that six.¡± Chronifer, a dedicated hater of most curses, unleashed everyone he knew in the silent fury of his mind. His mind flashed back to a particular low point: a book she¡¯d given him, the first which she expected him to finish by the end of the first week. It was massive, the size of a small boulder and filled with more words than every textbook and article he¡¯d ever read on Earth combined. The title, Sword Styles of the Mal¡¯al¡¯atis Region, had sounded intriguing at first¨Cuntil he realised he had zero foundational knowledge. Days went by just for him to comprehend the basics of sword forms, and the further he read, the more obscure it all became. The author¡¯s enthusiasm bordered on obsession, with page after page of sprawling notes, diagrams, and maddeningly detailed explanations. To the writer, sword styles seemed to be life itself, leaving little room for Chronifer to even grasp anything beyond them. Yet, through the relentless struggle, he¡¯d managed to learn a thing or two¨Cnot just about swords, but about the multiverse itself. Each style in the book was designed around superhuman principles, drawing directly from the ¡°Branches¡± his status screen had hinted at. These Branches weren¡¯t merely skills or techniques; they were powers, rooted deeply in the fabric of the multiverse. In his exasperated reading, the book had revealed mere fragments of that vast, layered structure¨Cthe multiverse, a massive fold of universes and mystical dimensions known as pocket realms, all interconnected and split into regions. He¡¯d barely scraped the surface, but even that glimpse had left him in awe, and a little wary. It was clear that Slora wasn¡¯t making him read these books for pleasure. This was preparation, and he had begun to understand exactly what for. He had read six books so far through the month, the majority of which focused on monsters, human autonomy, and other races. Well, it was obvious from the system¡¯s race category that others existed¨Che had reached that conclusion after the fact was spelled out to him¨Cbut reading about them in such detail was another matter. Chronifer didn¡¯t know how to feel about the fact that he was knowledgeable enough to pass an exam on various ways to kill humans, other races, and countless monsters. The thought left him uneasy, though he wasn¡¯t sure whether it was the knowledge itself or the reason he was expected to acquire it that disturbed him more. He turned back to the paper his mother had laid out on her desk. I''m definitely going to ace this one, I''ve already got to finish three books within a week now. Chronifer looked at the questions and got serious, aiming to keep the pace unchanged. Chronifer had come to realise that he wasn''t normal, or rather his body was not, he had consumed books, bigger than dictionaries in days and retained the knowledge. Chronifer had been pained to let go of his sails but he had come to a concession on this particular topic, slora knew what she was doing and he bet his counterparts on earth weren''t getting this theoretical education but rather a practical one, the message of the system still lingered at the edges of his mind. Well this is better, I could have been playing kid for months, while I died of curiosity. Ten questions, Chronifer looked the questions over, this is definitely not what a five year old was meant to be answering. Chronifer remembered his mother being all panicked about him reaching six the way he currently was. Chronifer didn¡¯t know what would happen then but apparently it was big enough for his mother to squil. Whatever I better focus extra hard, it''s definitely not because I''m scared or anything. He looked at the questions, actually reading them. ¡°Mother,¡± he said hesitating, his voice tiny. ¡°Are these questions from all the books I''ve read?¡± He turned to look into her green eyes. ¡°Yes¡­¡± She trailed off, her voice not what her face suggests, ¡°you know what, it''s time for lunch, I''m famished.¡± She added standing up, she shifted his position into that of a simple princess carry. Chronifer shifted around in his mothers hands and smiled. Well there goes the exam and yay to mother''s cooking. The first day slora had cooked in his presence he had expected to eat something subpar but she had been a goddess, Chronifer had never tasted anything better than her cooking. ¡°Let''s have a talk about the books, which was your favourite, again?¡± Chronifer¡¯s mood plummeted ¡°A Guide to Morphborn and Trueborn Anatomy by Ryuu Gregor Shinasho,¡± Chronifer offered, as his Mother opened the door and entered the hallways of the mansion.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Slora¡¯s feet falls echoed off the polished dark marble floors, the sound reverberated through the lengthy, and labyrinthine hallways. Oil paintings of battles and monsters lined the walls, each painting drawn with exquisite intent. Crimson and black tapestries hung at regular intervals, their patterns entwining symbols of the family horrifying insignia, which sent chills down Chronifer''s spine. ¡°Why?¡± Slora asked, her voice echoing. The clan insignia, black and dull gold, was hunting: it featured the face of a crying, chubby infant¨Cfeatures exaggerated in a way that distorts innocence into something unsettling. Its cheeks were swollen and glossy With streaks of gold that represented tears, while it''s mouth was opened in a silent scream, The eyes, hollow and dark, gave the impression of something lost, insatiable. Small, delicate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting forth amber glow along the hallways, which sent stretches of shadows along the walls, making the hallways grand and hunting. ¡°Well, I guess, I like the author''s humour.¡± Chronifer answered, his mother walking unhurried but seeming to eat up distance regardless of common sense. ¡°You like Ryuu¡¯s humour?¡± His mother laughed. Chronfier could sense a joke, he didn''t know about, does she know him? Perhaps. Before he could say anything she spoke through her laughter, ¡°Your father isn''t going to like that, he finds Ryuu jokes to be old, oh, I wonder his reaction when his son thinks they''re funny.¡± ¡°Do you know Ryuu?¡± He quickly added then, since his mother hardly talked about his father, he pounced on the opportunity. ¡°When will father come back?¡± ¡°Yes, you¡¯ll meet him eventually. After all, he¡¯s part of the Spiral. Your father, on the other hand, is on, let¡¯s say¡­ a passion mission.¡± She smiled, her eyes sparkling with distant memories, her husky voice tinged with reminiscence. ¡°Anyway, using the Genmagus Sword Style, which muscle groups are the easiest to target for reducing an enemy¡¯s mobility?¡± Chronifer gaped at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. There she goes again, he thought, frustration bubbling as she so casually dismissed the topic of his father¨Cand this Ryuu person. His curiosity about his father grew with every unanswered question, and now there was Ryuu. But then her words registered fully, and his eyes twitched. What the fu¨C He caught himself, cutting off the thought as he forced his mind to focus on the question. ¡°Oh, I''ll give you only thirty seconds to think up your answers, but fear not my soul, I''m very accurate at keeping track of time.¡± ¡°Just kill me.¡± He said before he could stop himself. He looked at his mother, and she met his gaze. For a moment, there was silence¨Cthen she burst into laughter, the sound light and unrestrained. Chronifer hesitated but soon found himself joining in, his laughter awkward at first before growing genuine. ¡°Twenty seconds left,¡± Slora said through fits of laughter. Bloody¡­ ¡°Well, there are a few key muscle groups that fit the style¡¯s rhythm,¡± he began. Organising his thoughts. ¡°Go on,¡± His mother said expectantly. ¡°For quick results, the adductors in the thigh are ideal. Genmagus relies on fluid, angled strikes, so cutting here weakens an opponent¡¯s balance, allowing for shifts around them easily. Hitting the quadriceps above the knee adds to this, slowing their pivoting to counter.¡± Chronifer¡¯s eyes were closed as he visualised how the style would be best utilised. He continued with confidence. "Then, there¡¯s the biceps brachii and forearm flexors. Genmagus strikes are often close-quarter, so¡­¡± his mother cut him off by nodding her head. ¡°Good, the next question is¡­¡±
By the time they reached the kitchen, Chronifer had answered about fifteen different questions regarding sword styles and the anatomy of both Trueborns¨Craces born sapient¨Cand Morphborns, monsters and animals who gain sentience and the ability to morph their forms. They reached the kitchen and Chronifer took a seat around one of the tables near the center island. The moment they entered, his mother stopped her questioning and began cooking. But then she did something she usually didn¡¯t. ¡°Do you know your father is a lucky man?¡± she asked as she worked. Chronifer scoffed. And how am I supposed to know that? ¡°I know nothing about my father?¡± His tone had an edge. For months now, he¡¯d been curious about the person he would be calling ¡®father¡¯ in this new life, but his mother always masterfully killed the topic. She didn¡¯t turn to look at him as she spoke. ¡°Of course you don¡¯t¡­ he¡¯s been gone for six years.¡± Her voice carried a bitter edge, each word deliberate, like she was cutting through the silence with a dull knife. ¡°I was about to cut ties with the Montcroix-Wythe clan and go back home,¡± she continued, her tone quieter now. ¡°But then you woke up. And just when I¡¯d nearly given up¨Clike he could sense it¨Cthe bastard sent me an apology.¡± Her hands stilled. The silence stretched unbearably long before she whispered, ¡°He doesn¡¯t even know he has a son.¡± The words hit him like a blow to the chest. He doesn¡¯t even know? His stomach twisted, a hollow ache spreading as he stared at her. The world around him felt suddenly smaller, heavier. His fingers curled into fists on the table. She kept talking, her voice unsteady. ¡°And I can¡¯t even blame him. I¡¯m sorry¡­ but¨C¡± Her words faltered, dissolving into silence. Why? His mind raced, a tangled mess of emotions. His chest tightened, a strange, suffocating heat coiling inside him. His heart thudded erratically, the sound hammering in his ears. His breathing grew laboured. Why does it feel like everything¡¯s falling apart? He gritted his teeth, trying to push the feeling down, but it surged stronger. His hands trembled, his vision blurred, his body betraying him. Family. The word echoed bitterly in his mind. In his past life, with all his fame and power, he¡¯d never had this. Nothing he¡¯d achieved could fill the emptiness where family should¡¯ve been. And now, here he was¨Cfinally part of something¨Cand it felt like it was slipping away. ¡°My soul¡­ My soul!¡± His mother¡¯s voice cut through his spiralling thoughts. Suddenly, her hands were on his face, lifting his chin. She knelt before him, her eyes wide with concern. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Why are you panicking?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± His throat constricted, his voice barely a rasp. He tried to steady himself, to swallow the storm inside him. But the words broke free, raw and desperate. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ don¡¯t leave him.¡± She froze, her hands stilling on his face. Her expression shifted¨Cshock, confusion, then something softer. The plea hung between them, unguarded and vulnerable. Tears blurred his vision, spilling down his cheeks. ¡°Please,¡± he choked out, his voice cracking. ¡°Don¡¯t let this family fall apart.¡± Her gaze softened, her unreadable expression dissolving into quiet resolve. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, brushing the tears from his face. ¡°Okay,¡± she murmured, pulling him close. Her warmth steadied him, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± A simple promise. But it was everything he needed to hear. Three days later, Chronifer was still embarrassed. Although his disgraceful breakdown had closed the distance between him and his mother, she was more open with him about matters concerning the Montcroix-Wythe clan, though she still didn¡¯t tell him much, saying his father would do that. I pray he''s mostly a good person, was a thought Chronifer found himself having. The day after his breakdown, a new month had begun, and his mother had told him to reread the six books he already had over and over until he knew every word of them. She also told him he was free to explore the entirety of the mansion and its yards. Chronifer settled into a rhythm, spending hours with the six books his mother had set out. Day after day, the weight of their knowledge settled into his mind, shaping his thoughts. Chronifer found himself working out in the mornings, something he had done frequently in his past life. The time was hard to track since there were no clocks throughout the mansion, but he just listened to his body instead. That became his early and mid-morning routine. The late morning was spent reading, while he usually explored the mansion and yards in the afternoon, going through the books he had to absorb. During the evenings, he talked to his mother about the books he had read, and she sometimes told stories¨Cnot relating to his father or the Spiral, but about the Multiverse, heroes, gods, and different characters¨Cstories that shaped Chronifer¡¯s wants. On one of the many days blurring into each other, Chronifer found himself face-to-face with a demon. His body tensed instinctively, every sense on high alert. In an instant, the peaceful days of reading and training fell away, replaced by a pulse of danger he¡¯d almost forgotten. And in that moment, he realized exactly what his mother had been preparing him for.